


Potential Motion

by Ponderosa (ponderosa121)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Aftercare, Anal Sex, Canon Character of Color, Degradation, Dom/sub Undertones, Insults, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Sibling Incest, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderosa121/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: Five stalks in a tight circle while Diego’s mouth moves soundlessly—probably he’s trying to figure out what to say. Or, maybe the shrink was right and it’s not Diego’s mommy issues that are the problem. Being the oldest is such a goddamn chore.[Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme asking for post-S2 Five/Diego degradation. With OP's blessing I went with Five topping from the bottom and degrading Diego.]
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Comments: 20
Kudos: 156





	Potential Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Additional content warnings: This is non-negotiated degradation kink with a strong focus on making fun of Diego's intelligence, dehumanization, and some mimicking of his stutter.

They stay the night after they save the world. It’s a stupid idea, but time, for the moment, is on their side, so to grease the wheels, Five shuts his trap and doesn’t complain. Aloud, anyway. He blinks up to the hayloft, drags a bale in front of a section of the wall that’s been blown wide open, and takes a seat to watch the Commission pop in and out to clean up the field.

By the time the sun’s down and the bodies are gone, he has to grudgingly admit that the delay might help his siblings put 1963 in the past where it belongs. After all, Vanya gets one last cuddle with her plain Jane housewife, Klaus gets to make friends with a kid who can’t tell him to shut up, Allison and Luther get to stare awkwardly at each other, and Diego…

Five pauses mid-thought. Where exactly had Two gone off to?

“When are those symptoms going to go away? Stop scratching yourself,” Diego says, voice emerging from the shadows.

Five rolls his eyes. Of course. As it turns out, Diego, per usual, is apparently sneaking around and making himself a nuisance by trying to do the “right thing” and come check on him.

“I’m not scratching anything,” Five tells him, and thrusts the offending hand in the air. It gleams wet with spit in the moonlight. “I’m masturbating, you dipshit.”

“Oh, God.” Diego’s heel scuffles in the hay as he pivots away and goes frozen. There’s a whisper of air that says he’s lifted his hand up to shield his face. “Five, I’m sorry.”

There’s a particular sort of annoyance that comes with being both exhausted and horny. And, admittedly, also still a little itchy. Five shoves his dick back in his shorts and blinks the five feet to reappear in front of Diego.

“How is it that you always manage to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?” he asks, stabbing a finger at the center of Diego’s chest. Diego takes a half step back, his features landing somewhere between surprise and anger. It slides more towards anger as Five adds, “And how stupid are you to not realize what it means that I’m stuck in this body. Do you remember what it was like being this age? It hasn’t even been twenty years for you since you had to deal with teenage hormones, you have no excuse.”

“Look,” Diego snarls, his face scrunching up.

 _“Look,”_ Five repeats snidely. “Look at what? My loser brother who fell in ‘love’ with a woman who’s been lying to him since he landed himself in the nuthouse? A woman who used him like some cheap toy, and, dare I say,” Five slings his hands into his pockets and steps back to eyeball Diego from head to toe, “handily beat the snot out of him.”

“She beat the snot out of all of us,” Diego says, as easy to rile up as ever. He advances on Five, his jaw set.

Not one-on-one, she hadn’t, Five thinks, moving a yard to the left. His blood roars in his ears. His skin has stopped feeling too-tight and now it just feels like it’s buzzing, a low-level electric hum that crackles along his nerves. The sensation of potential motion. Of moments between moments. “And she also left. Just like that,” Five says, leaning forward and holding up both his hands with his eyebrows creeping towards his hairline. “Gone. Poof. Like everything else about you, your dick just… wasn’t good enough for her.”

Smirking, Five rocks back on his heels and prepares to blink away as Diego grinds a fist into his palm like he’s ready to fight and get schooled all over again. “My dick is just fine,” Diego snarls.

“Prove it,” Five snaps.

“What?”

“What?” Five parrots back, not even hearing what he’s said as the fight goes out of Diego like a punctured water balloon. Now he’s just standing there with a confused look on his face like a big dumb puppy. 

This is not at all what Five had been looking to provoke. He’d wanted something to quiet down that simmering unease that’s been eating at him for two weeks now, a punch at the face to dance away from, a brawl to leave him breathless. Something more satisfying than taking out the Board or stopping the apocalypse.

Fuck.

Five looks down at his gangly, traitorous body.

Jerking off isn’t going to cut it. He wants to get laid.

He stalks in a tight circle while Diego’s mouth moves soundlessly—probably he’s trying to figure out what to say. Or, maybe the shrink was right and it’s not Diego’s mommy issues that are the problem. Being the oldest is such a goddamn _chore._

The Handler would’ve been a better option to scratch this particular itch. Riskier, but it’d always been like that with her. Was it more—or less?—weird to sleep with his brother if he’d also slept with his brother’s girlfriend’s mother? Technically, none of them were actually related, but he’d read enough psychology books in the undamaged parts of the library to know that argument was on shaky ground.

“Listen up, Diego, I said what I said and I meant it. This is how it’s going to go,” Five decides, popping back up under Diego’s nose and taking a fistful of his shirtfront. “You think you’re a good lay? I’ll be the judge of that.”

“W-what do you mean?” Diego’s stutter comes back momentarily as he studies Five’s face for any hint that he’s joking.

“Let me spell it out for you... in small words, so I know you’ll understand,” Five says, a hot rush flooding through him when the remark makes Diego’s nostrils flare. He releases Diego’s shirt and pats away the wrinkles left by his grip. “You, Number Two, are going to take your dick out of your pants and prove to me that you know how to use it. Simple as that.”

“So… you’re saying you want to jerk off together? Like we did when we were twelve?”

“Please. That proves nothing. You’re going to fuck me—up the ass, forget the way I look because we are not doing this schoolboy style—and if you’re any good at it, I’ll leave with a great big smile on my face. You can then feel secure in the knowledge that you aren’t entirely worthless in the sack so that maybe, one day, Lila will come back to you.” Five draws his shoulders up, a smile frozen on his face as he counts down the seconds until Diego caves.

“I’m not having sex with you, Five, that’s disgusting.” Diego sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, but it’s obvious that he’s already thinking it, calculating the angles between them unconsciously. Twisting his own morals as easily as the trajectory of a bullet.

“It’s pretty twisted, even for me. But you like that, don’t you, in the same way that every single thing I’ve said to you since you interrupted my private time,” Five grabs his crotch and gives it a shake, “has made you pissed off and more than a little bit horny.”

Diego’s gaze jumps down and away. “Shut up.”

“No,” Five says, mouth curling at the corners as he starts to undo his fly. The moonlight coming in through the bullet holes and missing chunks of wall streams silver across the floor, impossibly bright. Little bits of straw and specks of dust hang in the air between them, agitated by the smallest motion.

“Pull your fucking pants back up, Five. Stop messing around.”

“Or what, you’ll spank me? Because you clearly aren’t leaving, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m not the only one with a hard-on right now.”

“That’s not—”

“That’s a pretty pathetic boner, is what it is,” Five says, overriding Diego’s attempt at rebuttal. He takes a step sideways and reappears next to a hay bale, pitching himself forward and planting his hands on it. He rolls his shoulders, fingers spreading wide, and ignores the prickle beneath his palms in favor of the prickle of Diego’s gaze on his back. “One of us has an excuse for having a pencil dick and it’s not you.”

“I don’t have a f-fucking pencil dick, you little shit,” Diego says.

“Two words: Prove it,” Five tells him again. He fixes his gaze on the piece of wall in front of him and spreads his legs as wide as the shorts trapped around his knees will let him. A shiver of anticipation runs up his spine and he closes his eyes, senses shifting to tune into the sound and vibration of Diego’s weight shifting, the almost-movement towards him and then away.

There’s a slow exhale, the start of a guttural growl that gets swallowed back down, the soft _zwip_ of ripstop canvas as Diego reaches towards a knife like a pacifier to keep him calm. Or, at least, that’s what Five assumes he wants the knife for. If his brother doesn’t go for the fuck, Five will still take the fight. He draws in a full, deep breath, and launches into a fresh attack. “Diego Hargreeves has a tiny dick that he doesn’t know how to use, and on top of that, he’s a twisted piece of shit, because he’s getting off on being told it’s as worthless as the rest of him.”

The truth hits harder than the rest, and Five almost laughs at the hasty shuffle of heavy steps, the charge like a bull towards a cape as Diego closes the distance between them. His hand claps down on Five’s hip with a loud crack of palm meeting flesh, and the laugh in Five’s throat twists into a hungry little moan.

But Diego doesn’t settle into the space Five has very conveniently made for him. His idiot brother tries to flip him over onto his back in the pile of split bales spilling across the loft. Five blinks into the void, moving to a spot a few feet away, but the momentum makes him stagger in the space and he catches his shorts with both hands as he hops to keep from falling.

“No thanks. Hay is not as soft as it looks. It’s kinda stabby,” he says, righting himself and staring up through the fringe of his hair at Diego in order to stare him down. His toes curl inside his shoes as he finds purchase to launch himself forward into a jump and teleport to land with his arms around Diego’s shoulders. His brother merely catches and holds him, which is the real proof that he’s not only ridiculously predictable, but that he wants everything Five’s put on offer. He turns his head slightly, and the brush of Diego’s cheek meets his as he pitches his voice low to ask, “Would you rather we do this out in the field, where anyone could look out the window and see us? Do you want everyone else to know without a shadow of a doubt that you really are even more pathetic than Luther?”

“Five, what the fuck,” Diego says, but the hands cradled under Five’s thighs tighten. He turns his face towards Five’s.

“No kissing, you sicko,” Five tells him.

“You’re the one that’s messed up in the head,” Diego mutters, but there’s a breathiness in his voice now, and his heart thumps so hard in his chest it echoes through Five’s body, too. Diego swallows and his whisper of, “This is so wrong,” comes saturated with defeat and desire.

“Once again, I have an excuse for that. You don’t. You’re all screwed up the old fashioned way,” Five says, keeping one arm hooked around Diego’s neck to spit on his fingers and reach down to slick himself up. “Get your cock out of your pants and I’ll tell you if I can even feel it.”

“You’re gonna feel it,” Diego promises, easily holding Five’s weight with one arm as he struggles with his zipper.

“Am I? I’m not so sure.” Five spits on his fingers again, but this time when he pulls his fingers free, he wipes them on Diego’s face. He pats Diego’s cheek and sneers. “Come on, Two, can’t you even work a zipper? How do you manage to take a piss? Or do you still wet your pants and your bed?”

“I don’t wet the bed,” Diego snaps reflexively. 

“But you used to. All the time. You know, you’re lucky dad adopted us because your real parents wouldn’t have wanted such a useless, limp-dicked, bed wetter.” A shudder rips through Five when he feels the hot nudge of Diego’s cock up against his hole. It’s far from small, but that doesn’t stop him from telling Diego the opposite. A steady stream of vicious, cutting insults drip off his tongue as Diego carefully and steadily pushes in.

Diego’s teeth are on his lip and his breath has thinned into quick sips of air. His fingers splay to dig into Five’s ass, and they both shiver and share a moment, a silent understanding passing between them like it used to.

With intent, Five leans in to resume tearing Diego down the way he so clearly wants it. “You smelled like piss all the time when we were kids, Two. Maybe that’s all you really are: a piece of trash, soaked to the skin and stinking like a urinal.”

Five writhes as he takes Diego’s cock all the way to the root, the hot stretch of it chopping his breath into pieces. He’s never liked it easy with anyone other than Dolores, but the gritty slide is going to give him hemorrhoids, even in this body. He hawks up fresh spit to aim at Diego’s cheek—cliché maybe, but the classics are popular for a reason—when he stops and thinks better of it. The mess of it pools on his tongue, his whole mouth flooding wetter. He lets it all just pour out into his palm before cracking a grin and reaching back to feel where his brother is fucking into him.

“You’re not even— Not even worth spitting on,” Five tells him. He explores the girth of Diego’s cock with shaky fingertips, more of it buried inside him than he thought. The curve of it is perfect, tucked up nice and deep and poised to stroke him right where he wants it to. He traces where he’s stretched taut, then smears what spit is left on his hand across Diego’s face, a sizzling thrill arcing through his body when Diego moans and his brother’s mouth falls slack beneath his palm.

“You’re hardly even good enough to be my fucktoy, and you met my wife, so that’s saying something. Hell, I’d be better off if you hadn’t even come up here,” Five says, still grinding his hand against Diego’s parted lips.

He fights a groan when Diego opens up and lets him push his fingers in to feel the soft quivering of his tongue. Then another higher sound as Diego’s lips close around his knuckles and he makes good use of the renewed slickness to give Five a bounce. 

“I ought to be using my own fingers,” Five tells him, the acerbity of his tone muted as he ends up mesmerized by the slide of his fingers into Diego’s mouth. If he didn’t want to get railed so badly it’d be satisfying to jerk it right against those lips, fist tight as he smeared the tip of his dick against Diego’s face, just like it used to be with Dolores. God, he misses her. Five squirms and shoves away that ugly sentimentality, struggling to hug his knees tighter to Diego’s side. “I could do myself better with a rusty pitchfork based on whatever it is you think you’re doing with that pathetic thing you call a cock—”

With a groan, Diego drags his mouth off Five’s fingers and spins them around, a dizzying whirl that for the briefest instant leaves Five disoriented and floating. It’s almost like stepping through space until reality slams back as his shoulders meet the side of the barn. The wood catches against the fabric of his jacket as Diego grinds into him.

“I almost felt that,” Five says, struggling to catch his breath. “Fitting, isn’t it, being fucked by you in a barn. Luther might be an ape, but you don’t even have the smarts for that. You’re much, much lower on the food chain. You, my shit-for-brains brother, are nothing but a babbling, halfwitted pig.”

“Shut up, F-F-Five,” Diego says, crowding their bodies together, smothering Five against the wall as he ruts.

“Make me c-c-come hard enough and I w-w-will,” Five stammers back. He clings to Diego’s shoulders, heels bouncing as his brother fucks desperately into him. A moan gets driven out of him more than once by the piercing hot slide of cock splitting him open and filling him up. His mouth drags near the hinge of Diego’s jaw, and he bites back another moan to say, “But I don’t think you can. You’re not cut out to fuck anyone with that pin dick. Why should we even take you home with us when we could leave you here?”

“You wouldn’t leave me,” Diego says, his face turning towards Five, nose burying against the slope of his neck. His hips have found a steady, punishing rhythm that’s less about thrusting and more about grinding Five into the wall, but it still feels fucking amazing, the blissful glow of being stroked on the inside spreading through Five’s body.

“I’d leave you in a heartbeat,” Five promises with a hiss. “So would the others. We’ll drop another tractor on you and you’d be stuck again, helpless without the rest of us to save your sorry ass.”

Diego’s lip curls back and the hard edge of his teeth press into Five’s skin. A loud groan rips out of Five like gunfire and he arches, welcoming the threat of a bite. Dolores would _never._

“Or maybe we stick around for a month. We’ll put up signs along the road for Vanya’s little housewife to make money off of you like a freakshow whore. _Fucktoy next exit. Five cent cumdumpster.”_

A fresh ripple of lust makes Diego’s muscles go tense under Five’s clutching hands. Five’s always been good at the math, but as his years in the future had proved, sometimes his calculations are a little off. He sucks in air through his teeth and lets his head drop back against the wall as Diego worms a hand in between them to take hold of his dick.

“Is that what you really want, Two?” he asks, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling where the shadows gather dark as soot. He wants to spread his legs wider and push up into the rough fist curling around him, but his shorts are still tight at his thighs. It’s as close to trapped as he’ll ever be, and it’s so, so good. “You want everyone to know you’re a cheap, filthy slut?”

Diego breathes an angry yes into his ear, his boot skidding as he gets the purchase to fuck into Five with short, stabbing thrusts.

“My imbecile brother wants to be used like a whore,” Five muses aloud. He gasps and squeezes his eyes shut as the fist around him and the cock inside him pulls him into an infinite fire-hot loop. Each hard slap of Diego’s hips against him lights him up, sends pleasure through him in fits like the signals traveling along his nerves are skipping through space. A flash, a blink, a humming thrill popping in and out of his own body and leaving him on the edge of something trembling and raw. “Maybe we take you with us after all,” he pants out, “back to a time where people know who you are. We can lash you to the gate outside the house, mask on, pants down, and let anyone going by have a turn until everyone and their mother can see that the Academy’s washed-up Number Two has been fucked sloppy in every hole.”

“Fuck, Five, you’re such an asshole,” Diego moans. He twists his face away only long enough to lick his fingers and make the slide of his cock in Five easy again.

“Dirty sluts can’t speak until spoken to.”

Five can feel the quiver of Diego’s lip at his cheek, the difficulty he has holding back whatever it is he wants to say when the echo of their father’s tone hangs in the air. Potential motion, stifled, but ultimately in service of what Five wants.

“Tell me you’re a dirty fucking slut,” he tells his brother, as the cresting rush of an orgasm makes him buck for more.

“I’m a— I’m a dirty f-fucking slut,” Diego snarls. His cock swells, and he pulls back to slam into Five hard enough that Five’s head bounces and cracks against the wall.

Five shakes off the hit and turns his mouth towards Diego’s so that his words pour molten against his brother’s lips. “That’s right you are. You’re a useless stuttering pig who can’t properly satisfy a woman and who can barely satisfy a horny, teenage body,” he hisses, even as he’s jerking and spilling hot over Diego’s knuckles. He slides his hands towards Diego’s throat, thumbs tucking up under his jawline as their mouths shiver, barely touching. “Is my pitiful fucktoy of a brother going to come if I tell him to?”

“Yes.”

A satisfied grin spreads on Five’s face as the last waves of orgasm drain the tension out of him and he hangs lazily in Diego’s still-needy arms. “Then hurry up and blow your wad, Two, ‘cause I need a shower.”

Diego’s kiss takes him by surprise and he almost blinks away from it, a sputter in and out of space that makes the air pop before he rolls with it and kisses him back, knees squeezing Diego’s sides as he feels his brother coming apart inside him. Five threads his fingers into the hair that’s damp with sweat at the nape of Diego’s neck and swallows every ragged sound until Diego’s pulling away, lashes fluttering as his eyes come back into focus.

“You need to brush your teeth, all that coffee leaves your mouth tasting like ass,” Diego says, after gently easing Five back down to the floor. He steps away without making eye contact and produces a handkerchief out of one of his pouches to wipe off his hand and dick.

“You’re not exactly minty fresh yourself,” Five says, doing up his shorts. He wriggles his hips to get the blood flowing back into his feet and settle the awkward sensation of being empty again—he’d forgotten how messy it is to be on the bottom.

“We both agree this didn’t happen right?”

Five slides Diego a sidelong look. “Denial, already?”

“Five, c’mon, this is—”

He rolls his eyes and pops over to catch Diego by the elbow, dragging him through two jumps to get them into the farmhouse’s bathroom. “I’m not going to tell anyone anything,” Five promises, immediately starting to dig through the cabinet beneath the sink for some toothpaste while Diego staggers to the toilet to dry heave. “But I am going to be ready to come again in fifteen minutes, so if you want to join me in the shower and suck me off before we enter into some mutually assured silence, feel free to stick around.”

“Sometimes I really hate you,” Diego says before slamming the lid down and taking a seat on it. He buries his face in his hands and a shudder goes through him.

Five brushes his teeth with a finger and keeps an eye on Diego in the mirror, fondness softening the sharpness of his gaze. A dozen things to say tremble on the tip of his tongue, not all of them with an acid bite. If this had been a gloriously good bad time with the Handler, or any of the other Commission agents he’d seen fit to fuck, he wouldn’t have an echo of concern, but Dolores had been fragile and needy like this too.

He spits into the sink and sighs. “C’mon, Diego, shirt off. Let’s just get cleaned up, all right?” he says, reaching past his brother to get the the tub running. He positions himself in front of Diego and lightly knocks aside his brother’s vague attempt at stopping him from undoing the buttons down his front.

“What if someone comes in?” Diego asks, slowly getting to his feet and watching as Five undresses him.

“The door has a lock, numbnuts. Also, so what? Just don’t make it weird.”

“Does anyone in this family even know how to do that?”

Five looks up at him, then shrugs off his jacket and undoes the knot of his tie. “Not really, but it puts us all on the same playing field, doesn’t it?”

“You think I’ll see Lila again?”

“One way or another.”

“If it ends up being a while, you, um... you want to do this again sometime?”

Five motions for Diego to get in the tub. If his teens are anything like the first time with this body, he’s in for a solid three years of wanting to fuck anything that moves. “What happened to ‘we both agree this didn’t happen?’ that was quick.” He shakes his head dismissively. “Nevermind. I’ll consider it.”

He turns the spigot to get the water flowing out of the showerhead and steps in to join Diego, giving his idiot brother some basic instructions to remind him to do more than just stand there letting the water run over him. After the water’s gone cool and they’re forced to get out, Five steps to the other end of the bathroom and adds, “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what, the towel?”

“For coming to check on me.” Five’s still exhausted and a little bit horny, but the annoyance has been momentarily turned aside. He wraps himself in the towel and leans against the door.

Molecules of air around him vibrate with potential motion. He could grab his clothes and step away now, give Diego privacy as he gets dressed, but Five stays and holds his tongue as he watches thick fingers fumble on small buttons.

“Yeah, well, someone had to.”

Five’s still not used to the others—anyone, really—having his back again, but it’s never been more clear how much they need him. 

“Here,” he says, popping over to assist, because even if Diego wanted so badly to be torn down to nothing, Five can’t just leave him like that. He won’t leave any of them again. “Let me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Other places you can find me on the internet:
> 
> Instagram [@KimKuzuri](https://www.instagram.com/kimkuzuri/) for art/wips/process videos.  
> Twitter [@ponderosa121](https://twitter.com/ponderosa121/) for yelling about things and art.  
> Discord as ponderosa#1249.


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